Softley into the Night
by Somerandomguy1123
Summary: Winter can be a dangerous time. Forutnately, there are few in Moominvalley who would turn away an unfortunate traveller. You never quite know just who is going to knock... Featuring: Moominmama, Moominpapa, Young Moomin, and others.
1. ONE: Hibernation in Moominvalley

ONE: Hibernation in Moomin valley

The air cut with the sharp void of cold. The sky was nearly obscured by the white wash of snowflakes; each taken by the wind and blasted into fantastic rippling drifts that appeared to flow and swell away into the darkness.

Trapped between the wind and the snow an unfortunate creature was reduced to crawling through the shifting drifts. It's body was tinted blue with frost, and it moved with a desperate lurch. Some time ago it had collapsed, unable to walk any further in the freezing Blizzard.

Every laboured movement it produced proved more a distraction than a tactic of purpose. If not for the hazy fog of exhaustion, the creature more than likely would have surrendered itself to the cold. However, such thoughts were now beyond the possibility of consideration and nothing was of greater concern than finding the end of the snows. Wherever that may be...

"Mama?" A tiny voice echoed through Moominmama's sleepy fog. "Mama? Wake up."

"Mmrff..." She mumbled, and rolled over in her bed. A tiny hand gently began to shake her. "Mama. Mama please. Wake up." The tiny voice squeaked as the hand tugged at her bedcovers. "Mmm...what is it Moomin?" Moominmama yawned as she blinked the sleep away from her eyes. "I can't sleep. It's very cold," Moomin's tiny voice whispered. Moominmama let out a sigh and sat up in her bed. The room was dark save for the scattered moonlight seeping out from behind the drawn curtains. It sparkled and jumped, scattered by the still falling snow. Outside the wind whistled through the shingles and boards of the house. Spring was still a long way away. "Can I sleep here with you Mama?" Moomin's squeaky voice recaptured her attention. She paused for a moment considering the young boy's request, and glanced over to where Moominpapa lay peacefully. No, it wouldn't do to have him stay in their room for the rest of the winter. "Come Moomin, we'll get you another blanket." Reluctantly, Moominmama raised herself up from the mass of bedsheets and reached for Moomin's outstretched hand. It had only been a year or two since Moomin had begun hibernating in his own room, and he was still not used to it. He was getting better. This was the first time he had woken her up this year, compared to four or five times the previous winter. Moominmama gingerly led the young boy back across the hallway to his room.

Moomin yawned as his mother tucked him back into bed. "Would you like something to eat dear?" Moominmama asked. Moomin did not reply for a moment as his memory raced back to the pine needle surprise they had eaten the night they began hibernating. "No thank you." He politely declined. "Mama." He said in a voice hushed by weariness, "What if I wake up again."

"Well Moomin, if you can't get back to sleep, come and wake me up once more. It's quite alright you know." She said, reaching down an extra blanket from a nearby shelf.

"But Mama, I don't like to wake you up while you're sleeping."

"Don't worry, winter is a scary time and I want you to know that I am always right there if you need me." She smiled at him through the dim light and finished tucking him into the extra blanket. "Mama," Moomin whispered just a she turned to go, "Mama, will you sing me a song?" Again she paused. "Of course dear. What song would you like to hear?" As she moved to sit down on his bed, she could see his small face scrunch up in deep thought. After a moment, he said "I don't know. You pick one." This time it was Moominmama's turn to scrunch up in thought.

"Hmm…Ok dear." She turned to look out of the window. The snowflakes outside tumbled in the wind and the sparse moonlight glinted off of the distant trees. Moomin waited silently, eyes wide with expectation. She paused for a moment, and then began to hum a tune. Soon after she added the words. Outside the wind blew, the snow fell, and the trees rocked back and forth. Mama's hushed voice seemed to dance with whistles of wind. Through the window, moonlight wavered as clouds tumbled through the sky. There were darker clouds in the distance. Moominmama turned to look down at her son. Moomin's eyes were closed and his blankets were softly rising and falling. She paused. He did not stir. Moominmama silently rose from the bed, careful not to wake her now sleeping son. She tip-toed towards the door, mindful of any creaky floorboards, and paused at the door to look back at Moomin. He slept peacefully in the fading moonlight. "Goodnight my little Moomintroll" she whispered, and softley shut the door.

"Mmm...what was it dear?" Moominpapa grunted as Moominmama climbed back into her bed. "Oh nothing," she said as she ruffled her sheets. "Moomin just had some difficulty sleeping. It's rather cold in his room."

"Mmm...should build a fire…" Moominpapa mumbled. "Mmm." Moominmama grunted in agreement. "It would be nice of you..." But a snore from Moominpapa cut her off. "Oh, well. Perhaps not then." A flickering moonbeam wandered across the floor. It appeared almost to dance in time with the whistling of the wind. Moominmama sighed, snuggled herself deep into her sheets, and went to sleep. Soon there was little more in Moominhouse than snores and whistling wind.


	2. TWO: Things That Go Bump

TWO: Things that go Bump

_**Bang!**_

The sound echoed up the stairs.

_**Bang! Bang!**_

Moominmama's ear twitched as she stirred.

_**Bang! Bang! Bang!**_

Moominmama opened her eyes. For a brief moment, she lay still, confused. There should be nothing in the house making that noise at this hour. She sat up quite quickly as she realized what was happening.

_**Bang! Bang! BANG!**_

Still, in a sleepy fog, she leaned over towards Moominpapa, blindly groping for him in the dark. "Papa, papa!" She whispered, shaking him. "Something is at the front door!" Moominpapa, still asleep, gave a tired groan and muttered: "fff….well letimin then…." Mama squinted through the darkness in his general direction as he resumed snoring. The Banging downstairs had turned into a crash, and what sounded like the splintering of wood was now echoing up from below. Whatever it was, it appeared determined to enter and was seemingly well on its way in. Moominmama stumbled out of bed. Arms outstretched in the darkness, she fumbled for the door. A final crash alerted her that whatever was coming in had arrived. Then it was quiet. Almost quiet. Suddenly a weak shout muffled by the now intruding winter storm worked its way upstairs, followed by a small thud. And then all was still. Mama glanced back at where Papa slept on undisturbed, unable to see him. She shook her head and very carefully opened the bedroom door. The darkness that greeted her was no different than the darkness in her room, that is to say, she could not see in it. "Oh, where is my bag" Moominmama huffed as she groped around the back of the door where the bag should have been. "Aha! Gotcha." She muttered to herself, further groping through the bag. After a moment's search, she withdrew a convenient box of matches. Now armed, she began the slow trek downstairs.

The icy chill of the storm rose up the stairs to greet her, hinting at a now wide-open front door. Carefully Mama crept down the stairs all the while trying to invent some sort of plan; if nothing else than to at least close out the weather. A quiet groan came from the entryway. A floorboard creaked as Moominmama departed from the final step. Startled, she attempted to pull her heartbeat back down out of her ears with only mild success. Heart racing and breath bated, Moominmama slowly peered around the wall to face the intruder. Darkness stared back. Through the blackness, Moominmama could almost make out the broken-down door and the snowflakes pouring in from beyond. She shivered in the cold. Gingerly she took a match from the box and after a moment's pause, struck it. With a hiss the match took light. It cast a weak shimmering glow around the room, the dull orange fire revealing the scene before her. The door lay crooked and ajar in its frame, pulled out at the hinge. Drifts of snow had already begun to form, partially covering the main attraction. Before her, heaped onto the floor, lay a body covered in ice. The form was entangled within what appeared to be a large brown coat; it shone with frost in the flickering light. It appeared to be breathing, although without much strength. Moominmama gasped, "My! You're in a bad way, can you hear me?" But before she could continue, the match withered and faded to darkness once again. "Oh, dear." Moominmama cooed, searching for another match. The creature in front of her coughed weakly and wheezed "p...pom...gi..puh...puhshalisa...knee"

Moominmama fretted as she struck another match. "Oh dear, oh dear." She searched for a candle as the matches were quickly outliving their usefulness. "There we are." She mumbled, reaching for a covered candle holder. It took the flame without trouble. With both hands now free Moominmama turned back to the refugee. She quickly grabbed hold of the icy, tattered remains of his coat and began to drag him away from the door. This was no easy task and it was only due to the ice on his clothes that Moominmama was able to move him at all. With a great deal of huffing and puffing, she attempted to haul the icy heap towards the fireplace. No matter that there was no fire. His clothes and skin were icy cold and deathly pale, which came as no surprise seeing what condition his clothes were in! The coat was tattered and dirty, matching neatly the rest of his outfit. After a mere few feet, Moominmama could drag him no further. Exhausted, she relented. The creature had not protested once during the move, and now in the gentle candlelight, Moominmama could see that consciousness was but a distant memory for him. She turned to face the door.

Aside from the unnatural angle at which it hung from the frame, the door appeared to be in fair condition. Squinting through the flurries, Mama made towards it. A moment's wrestling revealed the only damage to be a hinge pulled out from the frame. "Nothing Papa can't fix" Mama muttered against the wind. The door, albeit heavy and jostled by the storm, proved to be relatively easy to move back into place. It would serve its purpose for the time being. Moominmama turned her back to the door and leaned on it, straining at what to do. "There must be a fire," she thought, "for without one there will be no tea or thawed water for that matter." She looked around for the firewood. "Surely." she mused "Surely papa brought in firewood before we started hibernating." A brief search revealed little more than an empty firewood bin. "Oh, Papa you oaf." Mama groused, the room nearly luminous with her annoyance. "Why must you put these things off?" In a huff, she marched off to the kitchen. The trapdoor to the cellar would lead her outside without having to disturb the now inoperative front door. For the price of a few tugs and small grunt, the cellar hatch flew open. Mama peered over the edge holding out her candle. The soft orange glow washed over the steps down to the cellar, sending a cascade of shadows dancing throughout. "Oh! Perhaps I jumped to conclusions." Mama softened as a bundle of cordwood revealed itself in the flickering light. Five minutes later, however, after heaving the bundle vertically up out of the cellar Moominmama was feeling less forgiving. "He's still an oaf" she grumbled to herself as she dragged the overstuffed bundle towards the hearth.

The new houseguest was still breathing if a little unconscious. He did not respond to any manner of poking or prodding from Moominmama. With a slight hesitation, she took the creature's sizable hand and held it between her own. It was ice cold and beginning to discolour at the fingertips. Moominmama quickly released the hand and turned her attention back to the fireplace. She grabbed the handles for the fireplace doors and peeled them wide open. "Oh!" A gasp of surprise slipped from her. Moominpapa had not been as lazy as she had imagined, for inside the fireplace was a neatly prepared bundle of wood. A few logs sat atop a symmetrical stack of kindling, surrounding which were piles of what appeared to be a mix of fine wood shavings and gunpowder. "What a surprise! I wonder when Papa had the time to set this up?" Moominmama struck another match. "It's really too bad he won't get to see it light." The starting mix took the light with an extravagant "WOOF!" and in no more than a few seconds the entire pile was ablaze. Moominmama stared into the crackling flames for a moment, impressed, and then hurried on.

"Oh, where have they disappeared to?" Moominmama huffed impatiently. She was frantically groping at the top shelf of a cabinet, searching for her teacloths. Unfortunately, all the search turned up was an old ratty blanket. Moominmama huffed again as she hurried back to the kitchen. After a quick clearing of the table and a brief excursion into her handbag, Mama set to work. Though they were well used, Moominmama's sewing scissors made short work of the blanket. She swiftly quartered it. Armed with her freshly divided cloths mama stepped over to the set of slowly thawing buckets of snow she had brought in. The fire had not become hot enough to really melt the snow yet, let alone boil it pure. "Just as well," thought Moominmama, glancing at the still sleeping guest. "A healthy fire now would do more harm than good."

Mama slowly soaked her rags in what little water had thawed. Next, she took the guest's hands, one at a time, and after a brief inspection loosely wrapped the soaking rags around them. The creature did not stir or flinch. Once both rags were tied, Mama swiftly set work removing his boots and repeating the process of wrapping wet rags on his feet. His boots and clothing were worn and tattered, and his limbs were not much better. Luckily for him, Moominmama could see only a few signs of frostbite, nothing serious. She sighed softly as she looked at him, heaped in a jumble on her floor. She considered trying to move him onto the sofa but doubted whether she would be able to drag him towards it, let alone lift him onto it. She decided it would be less trouble to leave him be. In this brief moment of peace, Moominmama turned to survey her work. The fire was roaring, the stove was hard at work purifying water, and the houseguest would likely keep his digits. The crisis, for the moment, was under control. Now was as good a time as any to get Papa involved.

"Pappa! pappa get up! We have a visitor!" Moominmama's violent shaking appeared to do little to rouse her husband. "Mrphh! All right! All right! I'm awake." Moominpapa grumbled, not sounding awake at all. "What's that you said? a visitor?" Papa's sleepiness masked his confusion. "Now? It is the dead of winter!"

"Yes dear, he broke in to get away from the storm." Moominpapa suddenly blinked the sleep out of his eyes. "What? Broke in? Storm?" But Moominmama had already gone. Papa stared after her for a moment and then scurried out of bed towards the door.

"My word!" Papa exclaimed as he stumbled down the stairs. The icy mass on the floor had begun to thaw in the heat of the now roaring fire. Careful not to step in any newly formed puddles, papa slowly made his way to the kitchen. Mama was hard at work over the kitchen stove. "Tea dear?" she inquired over the murmur of boiling water.

"Oh, uh. Yes. Uh, please." He stammered.

Shortly Momminmama and Moominpapa were sitting on the sofa, drinks in hand, waiting patiently for their guest to stir. Moominpapa gazed sleepily into the fireplace flames as he nursed his tea. "He is fortunate that he found us; a few more hours out there would not have been good for him, I think." Papa mused aloud between sips. "I wonder what would compel a fellow to be wandering about in such an awful snowstorm."

"You'll have to ask him when he wakes up dear. That is if he is feeling well enough to speak."

"Hmm," Papa grunted. Moominmama could see a familiar look in his eyes. "Perhaps he is an adventurer lost in the middle of a great expedition. Or!" Papa's eyes lit up as he sat upright. " Perhaps he is a Fugitive from the south on the run from the law! Or perhaps..!"

Moominmama leaned back, absentmindedly stirring her tea as Papa continued with grand enthusiasm. She could just hear the wind outside whistle over the sound of the fire and Moominpapa's fantastical musings. Suddenly, Moominpapa stopped. "But what if he **is** a dangerous criminal?"

"Pardon dear?" Moominmama turned her attention back to her rambling spouse.

"What are we to do if he **is** a dangerous criminal?" Papa repeated. "What if he came here to rob us!? To steal our things!?"

"Papa, really." Mama did her best to avoid looking annoyed. " Would he have traveled all this way, in this weather, simply to burgle us?" But Papa was not listening. Instead, he had jumped up from the sofa. "I'll show him what happens to people who think they can rob the Moomins!" Papa exclaimed and promptly ran off into the next room. "Oh Papa, Wait!" Moominmama put down her tea and made to go after him, but stopped. With a small sigh, she sat back down and patiently resumed waiting. She was now quite curious as to who would make their appearance first: Moominpapa, or the man at her feet.


	3. THREE: The White Death

THREE:

The White Death

Moominmama sighed. It had been what felt like ages (though consultation of a properly wound clock would show only thirty minutes difference) since Moominpapa's outburst. In fact, the occasional crash from elsewhere in the house had jolted her out of a light doze on more than one occasion already. "I do hope Moomintroll is well asleep." She thought aloud as another crash sounded down the hallway. Moominmama did her best to ignore it. Instead she stared deeper into the open fireplace door and continued to fight off the sleep which tugged at her eyelids. The fire crackled softly in its enclosure as waves of dull heat slowly dispersed across the room, each successive wave causing the sopping mass on the carpet to steam ever slightly more. Moominmama made a mental note to hang the carpet up before she went back to sleep. Yet another small crash came from elsewhere in the house. "Great Booble," Moominmama cursed in annoyance "What is he searching for?" The man on the carpet groaned in response. "Oh!" Moominmama started in surprise, anticipation shining in her eyes. "Papa! Papa, come quickly! Our guest is waking up!"

"Just a moment dear." Was all that returned from wherever Moominpapa had disappeared to. The man on the carpet groaned again and began to look around. He must still have been quite groggy as he did not catch sight of Moominmama, who remained seated on the sofa with bated breath. She watched carefully as he lazily looked around the room, only to stop when he saw the fire. He stared at it intensely, not moving a muscle, as if mesmerized. Realising that he must still be groggy, and quickly tiring of the suspense, Moominmama cautiously cleared her throat, and ventured a timid "Hei.". That did it. Now alerted to her presence, and not much else, the man clumsily raised himself into a sitting position and turned to face the sofa. He had short, matted brown hair and a slight stubble on his chin. His eyes were dark and weary, an appearance made worse by his grogginess. What felt like minutes passed by as he sat in a clumsy heap on the floor, soaking wet and squinting at Moominmama and the sofa. When he finally spoke it was with a raspy, tired voice, one she suspected had not been used much for some time. "Sch...schtowe?" He croaked, and fell into a minor fit of coughing. He tried again. "T...tt….t'koe tey?" Moominmama looked at him quisically. What had he said? She was sure she had never heard those words before. She puzzled silently for a moment, trying to come up with something of her own to say. The man cut her off. Squinting harder in the flickering light of the fire, he spoke with greater concentration this time. "Schtowe vie tackoy?" Moominmama watched as his eyes darted back and forth across the sofa, evidently struggling to make out what he was looking at. He spoke again, his voice was steady this time and carried a tinge of panic. "G'deh yah?" His eyes were open wide now; he sat up straight and alert. Moominmama gave her best welcoming smile and said "Hello there, welcome to moomin house. I'm Moominmama." The stranger was not at all comforted by her words. In fact he tensed up as she spoke and began to push himself away from her and the sofa. He stared at her wide eyed and began to stutter again. "Sch...schtowe…" Moominmama took a breath to speak, but never got the chance. An excited yell came from upstairs and without a moment's hesitation Moominpapa followed. He ran down the stairs clasping his trusty blunderbuss between his arms and shouted " I found it dear, it was in the attic!" But neither Moominmama nor the strange visitor had time to react, for in his haste Moominpapa missed a step. He hollered as he tumbled down, but managed to cling onto his firearm as he completed a full summersault. He landed with a clatter at the bottom of the stairs, quickly composed himself, and leapt to his feet with his blunderbuss in hand. "Listen here you sneaky fiend!" He cried, pointing the weapon squarely at the stunned onlooker. "Papa, please!" Moominmama tried to interject, but was unable to be heard over the clamor. "There'll be no trouble in Moominhouse tonight, do you hear?" Papa continued to shout. The guest only stared at the muzzle of Moominpapa's gun as what little colour there was quickly drained from his face. Having taken the stunned silence as an indication that his words had not in fact been understood, Moominpapa took a step forward and brandished his weapon again. The man shrank away from it limply and began to shiver and shake. He clumsily paddled himself backwards across the soaked rug, never looking away from Papa or Papa's weapon. He did not go far before a wall interrupted his crawl. The sudden impact caused a great shaky gasp to burst forth from him, which soon turned to a sob. Papa stared dumbfounded, blunderbuss still poised for action, as the man before him lay heaving and sobbing on the ground. He tried to speak, but each attempt at a word only led to further sobs. Moominmama said nothing whislt she ramained on the sofa, quietly observing with a mixed expression of annoyance and concern. Papa risked a glance over to where Mama sat, while lowering his blunderbuss. The sobbing man seemed to tire after awhile, or so was assumed from the decrease in frequency of his wails. Finally, after many blubbering attempts to speak, he managed to sputter something. "...Bbbuh...bbuh...buh…" the man stuttered. "...Bellaya...sss…smert…"

"What was that?" Moominpapa asked the room. "He can't understand you dear. He has different words." Moominmama said as she calmly sipped what remained of her tea. "Oh" Moominpapa stood dejectedly, arms limp at his sides, still clutching his blunderbuss. Papa stared at the hysterical mess sobbing against the wall, and after what felt like a long pause said. "I think he is broken."

The man continued in the corner for some time. He sat there and sobbed and repeated over and over again. "Bellaya smert *_sob_* Bellaya smert." Occasionally a shaky finger would join in and wave about in an accusatory fashion. "Strange fellow, isn't he?" Moominpapa, now seated, queried. "Couldn't say dear, I haven't had time to check." Moominmama quipped as she gentley set down her teacup. Papa grunted and turned to face her. "And just what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing at all dear. Simply that, between your little performance and pointing a gun at the half frozen man I've been defrosting for over an hour, I haven't had time to ask how he likes his tea!" Moominmama's voice neared a yell as she finished speaking, and she quickly looked away. Her face had become pink, first with annoyance, then with anger, and now finally with embarrassment. Moominpapa stared at her silently, stunned. Mama huffed slightly as she stared at the floor. After a moment she said "Sorry, dear." Moominpapa looked quickly from his wife to the large man quietly sobbing in the corner and back again. He, or once, could find nothing to say.


	4. FOUR: A Small Thaw

FOUR

A small thaw

_Waves rippled across the golden wheatfields. The stalks rustled as the hot wind blew between them, stirring up the scent of earth and dry grass. The heat of the sun beat down through the clear blue sky and a multitude of insects danced about beneath the rays. In the distance, a tractor could be seen, bobbing up and down in the sea of rolling hills that stretched on as far as the eye could see. The horizon appeared to be a single encircling line, broken only by the wavy silhouette of an old barn. A cloud of dust appeared in the distance. Slowly, but steadily it drew nearer and nearer until the small black shadow of a car could be seen. Time seemed to slow as the car approached. The shadow cast in the vehicle's wake appeared to swallow all things around it, growing steadily until it almost seemed to bleed into the sky. There was no longer any sound, not the crackle of the tires or the rumble of an engine, nor even the noise of wind. The car approached with dizzying speed as the whole world seemed to spin around it. Its twin headlights seemed to bore into the soul, glowing with hatred as they flew ever nearer. The sky darkened as the car's shadow swallowed up the sun. The spinning world appeared to crumble under its wheels as it screamed along, closer, closer. Now all that could be seen were the searing bright lights of the car, still shrieking across the empty hellscape nearer and nearer, brighter and brighter._

The man awoke with a gasp. He forced himself to hold perfectly still as his heart raced in his chest. His hands shook slightly and his face was wet and clammy. A bead of sweat slowly trickled down his forehead and into an eye. He hurriedly blinked it away and licked his own dry lips, straining to hear over his own rapid breaths. The room was dark and suspiciously quiet, excepting of course the muffled shrieking of a blizzard raging outside. A smothered crackle across the room drew his attention to the sound of a simmering fire. Struggling to suppress his rapidly heaving chest, the man tried to risk a glance in the direction of the sound. He found his movement to be restricted by a thick woolen blanket. He stopped, surprised, and stared at it. It was not very large and barely covered his ankles. He slowly pulled it away. Dark red light emanated from the fireplace and the contents of the room flickered in and out of sight. The man tried to blink away his still blurry vision, but was met with limited success. Placing an arm out on the floor he instead felt the area around him. It never occurred to him what he was searching for, or what he might find. As he hurriedly swept his hand back and forth along the rough floorboards, something got in the way. A small "crash" could be heard as the object was sent skittering across the floor. The man had to stifle a shout as something hot covered his hand. He sat up with a grimace and tried to wipe the burning sensation off with the blanket. A door swung open on the other side of the room. The man might not have noticed if it wasn't for the brightness of the light streaming through the doorway, preoccupied as he was. Squinting again, he looked around as the new illumination revealed his surroundings. The object he had hit was a china mug, which was now empty and laying on it's side out of arm's reach. There was also a small plate adorned with a simple bun. Next to the plate was a puddle that marked the starting point of the mug. All of this information was gathered at a glance, for as the door opened and revealed the room, the figure that had opened it stepped inside as well. Struck with curiosity and an odd sense of deja vu, the man stared at the small, rotund silhouette before him. The creature (for it certainly wasn't Human) walked with the shuffle of short legs and appeared to be carrying something. Whatever it was appeared not to have noticed him and was instead tending the dying fire. As it knelt down to add some much needed fuel to the fire, a long thin tail became visible. It sat there for a few minutes, diligently poking the fire until it had roared to life. The creature could now be seen much clearer in the bright flicker of the fire. It had a large bean shaped nose and head which sat atop a short body that vaguely resembled a pear. Two tall, pointy ears were perched at the very top of its head. He couldn't see any eyes or teeth and the longer he watched the less threatening the creature appeared. Apparently content with the state of the fire, the creature stood up, and turned towards the man. It's large eyes glinted slightly in the light of the fire and the man felt his heart skip a beat as they stared straight at him. It very slowly began to walk towards him. The man stifled a gasp as he felt his heartbeat begin to thunder again inside his chest. It was halfway across the room now, and almost fully silhouetted by the fire. He shakily began to shuffle away all the while staring at it's enormous eyes. His back hit a wall and the creature continued to approach. He shook slightly as he stared up at it's large, expressionless face, unable to read it, let alone guess it's intentions. Suddenly, it stopped and looked down at the puddle on the ground and the teacup some distance away. The man tensed his aching body, and pressed himself harder against the wall. He flinched as the creature knelt down and began to mop up the mess with something. The man slightly cocked an eyebrow as he realized that it had a brightly coloured apron tied around it's waist. After having finished Swabbing the floor, the creature then reached for the teacup and placed it gently back down next to the bun. The man relaxed slightly as a small teapot was produced from somewhere behind the creature. It poured a large steaming cup of what smelled like fresh tea. The man blinked stupidly as he switched his gaze from the tea to the creature and back again. The creature seemed to be waiting expectantly as the man studied the teacup. Gingerly, and with many pauses, he reached out and took hold of the cup. It was just cool enough to hold and the heat soaked into his icy hands. The man suddenly realized just how cold he felt. His hands and feet were practically numb and he was just on the verge of shivering. He took a drink. The tea was sweet and warm, even if it burned a little. He quickly took a second drink. The creature nodded it's large head and turned to leave. The man watched as the creature slowly plodded back across the room, swishing the floor with its tail. He quickly took another sip of tea and leaned back against the wall...

Author's Note: Due to constantly changing events and priorities, updates to this story are going to be fairly few and far between. Once every two months would not be an unreasonable interval at this time. Should things change further, well then: . /tfN4SP5CrEPmMQLy9


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